She gives a sharp intake of breath. ‘Tate may have mentioned. If you can handle big stuff like that, being head-over-heels will be like falling off a log.’
I have more important things to do than sit on the beach arguing with Scarlett. ‘It’s out of the question. I can’t be in love! Thanks for telling me, I’ll deal with it straight away.’
I know what I have to do. I end the call, and two minutes later I’m in the tranquillity zone, stuffing my clothes and laptop into a rucksack.
When I arrive upstairs at the Net Loft I throw my bag on the bed, take Fudge’s lead off, then I go out onto the back terrace and phone Scarlett.
‘Two calls in as many hours!’
I’ve decided what I have to say, and I launch. ‘You need to sort yourself out, Scarlett. Stop messing Tate around. Just decide what you want to do with the cottage and your relationship, and tell him. Then hope to hell you’re lucky enough to get it.’
There’s a gasp, then a gap.
I carry on before I lose my nerve. ‘I won’t be staying at the cottage again until Miles leaves. I’m very grateful for everything you’ve done for me, but this once I can’t do whatyouwant. I have to do what’s good forme.’
I hear her reel, then she gives a cough. ‘Well done with that, it’s great practice for me not always getting my own way.’ She pauses for a second. ‘I heard from Kiera. That valuation was because Miles is offering to buy the cottage.’
I’m caught off guard again. ‘Why would he do that?’
Scarlett sniffs. ‘I was hoping you could tell me that.’
As there’s nothing more to say, we end the call together.
AUGUST
52
The Net Loft, St Aidan
Hot house plants and herbaceous borders
Friday
It’s Friday, and a week since I started staying here at the Net Loft instead of the cottage. It’s been a thousand times more unbearable than the week before that, when Miles and I were all over each other– for all the opposite reasons. Seeing Miles even less– i.e. not even bumping into him in the mud room– has been horrible, but this is the only way I can deal with it, and I’m hoping I’ll get used to it eventually. In the meantime, I’m still dashing backwards and forwards along the beach with Fudge to sort out Pumpkin and sell Miles’s buns.
When I come back into the shop after this afternoon’s beach sales there are crowds of visitors milling on the harbourside. Zofia is serving drinks at the pastry table, but there’s no danger of meeting Miles, because he’s now baking at Jackie’s or the cottage. Even though I’ve just spent my seventh night here, Zofia is still protesting.
‘You do know you and Miles are the most stop-go couple in St Aidan?’
I know Zofia too well now. ‘Why not skip the preamble and tell me where you’re going with this?’
‘I’ve promised Miles I’ll deliver you to my house at four.’
Jackie steps out from behind the postcard rack. ‘I’m here to cover while you go.’ She fingers the silk scarf that’s knotted around her neck. ‘Whatever he’s done, Betty, please give him another chance. He’s never been as happy as he has since you guys got together at the cottage. Or as miserable as he’s been the last few days.’
I shake my head. ‘I’m sorry, Jackie. It’s not him, it’s me.’ I’m not going to get out of this, but at least I can do it my way. ‘It’s busy so there’s no need for you to deliver me. I’ll leave you two here and drive myself.’
Zofia squeezes my fingers as I pass, and whispers. ‘He’ll be in the gazebo in the second walled garden.’
Then Clemmie and Plum burst through from the kitchen, pull me into a hug, and say, ‘Go get him, girl!’ which somewhat blows the secrecy vibe out of the water. The whole village knows about this, but whatever.
* * *
I’m heading out of town against the traffic, then I hit the single-track lanes, but thirty minutes later I’m padding across the soft green lawn of Zofia’s vegetable garden, past the vibrant orange and pinks of the marigolds and cosmos, and the lavender that is buzzing with the sound of bees. The trellis structure where Miles is waiting is like a mini version of the bandstand on theNeighboursTV show where so many crucial plot moments happen.
I step under the shingled roof and get in first. ‘If you’re about to propose to me, Milo, please don’t.’
‘I’m not.’
